The Dragon Encircles Thee
by JW7
Summary: A young girl journeys to the land of Middle-earth, where she must find a way to defeat the evil that destroyed her family, and find love and strength in a time of heart-ache. HaldirOC


_Author's Note:  Greetings, Readers of Fanfics!!  *loud fanfare rises from somewhere deep in the castle*  I hope all is doing well in each of your lives, and that you are presently in a state of good cheer.  Heartfelt thanks goes to you for taking time to read my creation.  I hope you like it, and I hope you will review to tell me how the story is and if there are any changes that need to be made.  I would also like to hear any suggestions you have.  Flames are accepted, but I respectfully request that the flames are put in a nice and respectful way.  This story is based more on the movie version of LOTR and it has been made with a couple of changes to the cannon, which I will tell you about now before the story starts, so that you will not fall out of your chairs in shock when you witness it in the story.  The changes are:  Haldir did not die in the Battle of Helm's Deep—he is alive and doing well at present; the Elves did not sail to Valinor—they are still in the Elven kingdoms.  Those are the two changes that I can remember, anyway.  This story happens after the Return of the King, and assumes that Haldir is not married to anyone.  It would be a tad awkward if he was, since this story is to be a romance between himself and another character.  Well!  On with the show and happy reading!_

The Dragon Encircles Thee

By: JW7

Chapter One:  Faith, Hope, and Love

The smell of intense spices penetrated the space around her, encircling, and finally infiltrating her thoughts.  Anju=s mother, hard at work in the kitchen yet again preparing for the noon meal, was no doubt chasing her father out of her work area at the moment, and if not, would be doing so in the next few minutes.  The aroma of the spices of her parents' Homeland was a special smell.  It was the smell of the love of family and a happy life, and that smell never failed to warm her even when the sun could not.  

It was early spring now, and the sun was doing its job well, but the smell of spice entered into her bones and heated her inside out.  Her window seat was definitely a nice place to sit on a pleasant day like today.  There were a few white clouds against the deep blue background of the sky, and the sun was unobscured.  A gentle breezed kissed her face and neck, sending tendrils of escaped hairs waving playfully.  The sun heated her head so that the hair would be hot to the touch.  Her long braid was the perfect shade of brownish-blonde so that when hit with the sun=s rays, it would reflect and send thousands of tiny golden sparks flying back into space.  

She looked down at the remainder of her morning lessons in her lap.  History was always a fascinating subject that gave her brain something to mull over anytime that she was doing something which didn't challenge her grey matter, and mulling was a favorite past-time.  The pages that the history book was open to were filled with the facts and approximations of the French Revolution.  Her tutor had gleefully dumped two chapters upon her head to read for homework.  

The history tutor was a somewhat unorthodox teacher.  He always favored discussions rather than written work.  Sometimes, if she caught him in an extremely good mood, she could start to discuss a chapter with him before a test.  They would get caught up in such a lively debate that before they knew it, their two hours were over and he would give her a passing mark for the test in that chapter.  She knew what she was talking about:  He knew it and was glad that one of his pupils actually paid attention to his lessons.  All of her tutors gave her much praise for her work, even the crotchety and wrinkled math teacher, who after harassing her mind for two hours and deriving much pleasure from the torture of numerous equations (all of which was at least as long as a large snake and just as perilous), released the mathematical vice on her head and gave her a satisfied look of a job well-done.  

Now was the break between history and lunch, about thirty minutes, if one was inclined to take a stop-watch to it.  After this thirty minutes of peace, Anju=s elder sister would come bounding into her room with far too much energy for anyone and announce rather loudly that the meal was ready and waiting.  Her sister, Anna, was four years her senior and the eldest child at age twenty-three, followed by her brother Rohan at age twenty-one, then herself at nineteen.  The baby of the family was their brother Rajesh, a ten year old muddle of mischievousness and sweetness.  

The men of the family took after their deceased grandfather, who was a strong, kind, and wise man, in both looks and personality.  The men were all slim, and muscular, with black hair and dark complexions.  They were capable of doing very well in studies (though Rohan=s instructors at the public academy lectured him relentlessly of the evils of laziness), and all did very well in physical activities.  Soccer was the sport of choice for the younger generation of the family's males, and shouts of victory or fiery indignation could be heard from the back yard in the afternoons when Rohan and Rajesh came home from vigorous days at their respective academies.

The women of Anju's family were never sent to the academies like ordinary women in other families, but they were tutored in every subject that was taught in the formal schools, as well as other subjects.  Their schooling was nearly the only thing that all three of the family=s women had in common.  Their Ma and Anna were also very dark complected and dark haired, but Anna was the heaviest of the three of them.  Anju=s milky white skin was a genetic heirloom passed down to her from her mother=s mother.  

Ma was the one with the best sense of humor and was the best cook all-round.  Anna=s expertise was in the cooking and presentation of various types of vegetables and fruits, and Anju was the resident baker with the calmness and patience needed for convincing bread to rise when it was supposed to.  Of course, Anna and Anju were both sufficiently decent in the preparing and making of many different items, but bread for Anju and plants for Anna were the mediums that each could pour their passions for peace and color (respectively) into.  

Presently, the latter was bounding, and the former was waiting for the imminent announcement.

"Anju!  Come quickly, lunch is on the table.  It will not wait for you, for the natives are growing restless and the food is eager to satisfy!"  She had just touched the top step of the long flight of stairs leading from the main room to the hallway and belted out her command when she had disappeared just as quickly back down the stairs in a flurry of yellow and red colored cloth.

Quietly Anju sighed and smiled as she did so.  Placing the history book back in its rightful place on the desk, she exited the room and descended the stairs.  The sounds of good cheer spilled out from the dining room into the large living room.  

Before she was able to enter the dining room, Ma called out, "Anju, please get the bread from the kitchen."  Anju turned on her heel and went directly to the kitchen.  Drawing a long serrated knife from the drawer nearest the far wall, she set her mind on carving the plump loaf of wheat bread resting quietly on the countertop.  Some of the wheat berries were visible when the loaf was carved, and she picked a few off of the end piece and munched while carving.  She drew a certain amount of comfort from grinding the plump wheat berry between her teeth.  Finishing the job, she pulled out a long platter from the cupboard and loaded the bread onto it.  

The women and girls were giggling, and all the men were smiling and talking about something of interest when she entered the dining room and all were aglow with mischief and merriment.  Several of the cousins and their families had arrived that morning to celebrate the festivals in a couple of days.  A few absentees were due to arrive right after lunch.  

"Ah! There is the beauteous princess of our homeland now!" teased one of her Uncles, and she lowered her head and blushed.  Uncle T, as they fondly called him, had always been one of her favorite relatives.  He was a strong advocate for humor, like her mother, and he teased everyone equally and as often as he got the chance.  

"Soon she will be the bride of the homeland," said one of her younger cousins.  Anju looked up abruptly with a clear expression of shock, nearly upsetting the bread she still held in her hands.  

Her Ma grinned giving a look of good humored scolding to the young cousin and said, "We wanted it to be a surprise," and she put her arm around her husband's shoulders.  "Your bridegroom will come for supper tonight and you two will meet.  If all goes well, you will be married by the end of the eighth festival day."

She smiled and blushed again, this time a deeper shade of red.  

"Look how shy she is!  She will make a good wife," the eldest Aunt said.  

Anju hadn't really thought about getting married yet.  It wasn't because she wasn't at a suitable age; many girls are married by now or a little after, so she was at just the right age where girls were expected to wed.  She just had never thought much about leaving her family and her present situation as a student and daughter of the household.  She supposed she should have gotten herself ready for the fact that she would soon be facing marriage, and scolded herself for not thinking of it beforehand.  

Arranged marriages between her people were common, so that didn't upset her.  She wondered who this man was who would be her groom; she probably hadn't met him before, or at least didn't think she had.  She would find out tonight, though.  Her parents would have gone to extreme pains to make sure that he came from a good family and was a good man.  She also had a tiny shy hope that he was handsome and smart as well.  The handsomeness didn't matter to her as much as the intellect part, but every maiden hopes her soul-mate will be handsome, do they not?  

"And will you dance and sing tonight for after-dinner entertainment?" a male cousin of her own age asked.

"Oh, yes!  Do, please!" beseeched a younger Aunt.  "It has been so long since we heard you sing, and my heart yearns to hear it."

"Her husband-to-be will never let her out of his sight if she sings for him before the wedding," Anna giggled.  

And again a scarlet blush crept up her neck and over her cheeks.  

Their family was an ancient one descended from many great musicians and dancers.  Most of her family was in some way involved in the performing arts.  Everyone was expected to at least decently learn to dance and sing, and the more talented ones were pushed and encouraged to become even better.  Anju was one of those, and for as long as she could remember, she was drilled with singing lessons by her father, and dance and grace lessons by her mother and grandmother.  Her father was one of the most famous and skilled singers of their Homeland, and even in this New Land, which they had moved to and established themselves in when Anju was very young.  Her grandmother (on her father's side) was an expert of the classical dance of the Homeland.  Her mother was taught the dance of her own mother's land, a land similar to the New Land, but older with a richer cultural history.  

Even Rohan sang well, but he didn't like to sing in front of many people.  Anju could usually wheedle a song or two from him when she was the only one in the room.  Otherwise, he sang only in the bathroom or for their father.  Rajesh was already showing capabilities of being a good dancer, and their father had been looking for tutors to guide his talent.  If a song started, he could not sit still and would at least tap a foot and his left hand.  Getting too enthusiastic with his tapping would usually earn him a tormented look from Ma which usually came with a heated lecture on respecting the performer afterward, but sometimes he would decide it was worth the risk.  

When their father was young, he and his brothers decided early on what route they would take in their arts careers.  Father decided that since he had the ability for song, he would continue with it and pass it down to his children.  His marrying a famous dancer was a very nice bonus.  

One of his brothers, Bora, decided that since he was good with his hands, he would make the different musical instruments both of their Homeland and for this New Land.  He made only the finest quality instruments, and built a very prosperous business from it.  His children inherited a strong instrument playing ability, and one of his daughters was apprenticed to his business of making the instruments.  

Within the family, it was considered a great honor and compliment to their talents if Uncle Bora made a special instrument designed specifically for an individual and then gave the person lessons on the new instrument on top of it.  Bora presented Anju's father with a beautifully crafted string instrument on the day of his engagement to Ma, and since then had developed Anju's father's playing skills by coaching him as often as Bora could spare time.  Anju had received a wooden flute carved with thousands of tiny flowers and swirls of creeper vines on the day of her sixteenth birthday, and had practiced every night before prayers ever since.  

Music ran in the family's blood, not just as a gene hidden in the many chromosomes of human cells, but it acted as a mystical binding agent that held their hearts and souls together and kept the bonds of family tight and sweet, as it should be.  Music acted as a friend and confidante, and as a refuge from the toils of daily life.  The deeper a hardship hit, the sweeter the music was created, for when someone was troubled by something, the music pushed the troubling thoughts out of the mind, thereby creating a haven of peace so that wisdom could enter more easily and solve the troublesome problem.  The music was magic and offered stability and peace of mind for those with the courage to embrace it.  Even though not everyone embraced it, it was still a deep cycle affecting everyone.  The ones who did not embrace it or even those outside of the family who had not come in contact with it before found themselves mesmerized by the beats and tunes and movements of song and dance, and in coming out of their trance, they decided they enjoyed and sometimes deeply needed the phenomenon that had engulfed them.  

"What enchanting song will you sing for your bridegroom, Anju?"  her mother questioned with interest.  "A love song?  A ballad?  A folk song?"

"Definitely something with a strong beat so that you can dance to it as well," said Rajesh, making playful dancing movements to an unheard tune.  

Anju sat silent thinking about this for a few moments.  There were many options to be considered.  Rajesh was right:  a song with a strong beat was required for a dance performance as well as singing.  As for the choice of song, she wasn't sure.  Some songs seemed too slow for the festivities, and likewise some songs had a rhythm that was too fast, which could be seen as irreverent or too gaudy for the occasion.  Though her heart longed for a soul-mate, Anju did not feel comfortable confessing eternal love through song to this stranger who was to enter her house this night.  Though, the topic of hopeful love would be acceptable.  This left one lovely choice.

"I will sing 'Ishq Bina', if that would appropriate," Anju suggested.  

"Very nice choice, sister!" Rohan congratulated her.  "It will sweep him off his feet and glue him to his seat."  She hoped it would.  It had always been one of her most favorite songs.  

"With that settled," Ma continued, "Anju, will you make the topi to present to the prospective bridegroom?"  Topi was the traditional sweet candy which was made by the bride to give to the groom on the day of their meeting to symbolize a strong sweetness to start their life together and for the sweetness to linger in their lives as the candy lingers on the tongue.

Anju nodded, planning how she would make the topi especially for her bridegroom.  Perhaps some vanilla to create a strong flavor base, and cinnamon and cloves to round out the palette would be in order.  She would put her heart into the project, and hope that all turned out well.  

The noon meal passed quickly with much mirth and good-natured hilarity.  The elders of the family sat together to discuss family events or to pass harmless bits of gossip or to talk about the state of the politics and economy in various countries.  The younger individuals of the family sat together, which included any unmarried young persons.  As Anju was unmarried and lacking in the necessary number of years, this included her, but she didn't mind it.  She enjoyed the creativity and the uniqueness of her young companions, and as she so rarely got to see them, she was glad to visit with them as well.  Usually, the only ones to visit their house were family members and then only on special occasions.  Rarer still were outsiders who sometimes came to their house upon musical business with Father or a singing member of the family.  So, large family meals like this and the prospect of visiting outsiders (especially a future bridegroom) served to make the meal a lively one.  Everyone was jovial, relaxed, and ate their fill.

As soon as the noon meal was over, a flurry of work began to prepare for the evening meal and the outsiders.  The women bustled in the kitchen and about the house mixing this and checking on that.  Flowers were arranged on the long dining table, and places were set.  Anju made the topi and helped in whatever else needed to be done.  She also made sure that the floor in the Round Room was swept clean of any possible debris, so that when she danced, her feet would not be injured.  The Round Room was the family's performance hall, and it was the custom that dance performances should be done with bare feet and ankle bells.  

Nearing the end of the afternoon, Anju ascended the stairs to lay out her performance dress.  Ma, Anna, and various other female relatives gathered in the room to help Anju get ready.  Everything had to be just so for the first meeting.  First perceptions were important.  They presented her with her "meeting dress", the dress she would wear when meeting her bridegroom for the first time.  Tradition dictated that the meeting dress should be new and should flatter the wearer, as to show off the best aspects of her beauty.  Anju's meeting dress was a pale yellow of soft fabric that fell like a waterfall down the skirt, and moved with her as lightly as a breeze.  The skirt had a boarder of deep red spiral stitches that twisted and turned into intricate circular patterns.  The top was of the same pale yellow that came to just above the navel.  The finishing touch to the ensemble was a long piece of the yellow cloth with more crimson stitches on it, which was draped around her shoulders and head, her hair having been washed, combed, and wound tightly back into its extraordinarily long braid that morning.  

Anju had just started to wonder where Ma had slipped off to when she came back through the door of Anju's rooms with a small wooden box about the size of her palm held close to her.  Ma came through the group of chatting women and approached Anju.

"My daughter, today you will be taking one step closer to growing up completely and becoming a wife.  This marks a special time in your life, one full of changes.  Whether you stand strong and make those changes for the good or you falter and the changes become bad, will be your choice.  What I am saying to you, child, is that you must live your life to the best of your ability.  Your choices will become your future, so choose wisely, which I know you shall.  We all love you very much and are proud of you.  On this day, I believe it is the right time to give you a gift which has passed down from generation to generation of the women in this family.  My mother gave it to me, now I am giving it to you."  Ma held out the wooden box, and Anju looked at it for a moment.  Ma smiled as Anju took the box into her own hand.  Gently lifting the lid, Anju peered inside.  Her mouth dropped open in surprise.  Lifting the necklace carefully which lay gently nestled in the box lined with velvet, she draped the delicate chain over her fingers, and touched the pendant with her thumb.  It was the same pendant that her mother had always worn and cherished.  It was barrel shaped and wrought in deep gold.  On the sides of the barrel was writing in the ancient script of their Homeland.  In the old text, the script was a bit harder to read, but in the new text it was simpler.  The old barrel-shaped pendant gave three words that should never be forgotten:  _Faith_, _Hope_, and _Love_.  Three words that when put in action, will make all become right.

"It has always been handed down to remind the one who receives it of their past and heritage.  Remember Anju, there are many women who have lived longer than you and long before you.  If your life choices ever land you in trouble, there is no shame in asking for help, but you must work to make things right."  Anju nodded at the life advice her mother gave to her, and Ma took the necklace from Anju's hand.  "Turn yourself around."

Anju did so and felt the cool piece of worked metal slip around her neck as her mother clasped the chain.  The barrel pendant dropped about one inch from the crook in her collarbone, and the heavy weight of the gold seemed to pass a calming wave over her entire body.  It was just the anchor she needed for such an important day.  


End file.
